Cold Hands
by Bryan Greenberg
Summary: Logan and Rory get into a snowball fight. Fluff ensues. Sophie oneshot.


Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls.

WARNING: Extreme fluff and complete lack of plot.

**Cold Hands**

"And this is the Dragonfly Inn," Rory stated as she and Logan walked towards the inn at the end of their tour of Stars Hollow. She'd been nervous to bring Logan to her childhood town, unsure of what his take would be on the idiosyncratic hamlet she had called home.

She looked at him expectantly as they continued up the walk towards the inn. He smiled at her and she grinned at the innocence that graced his features when he abandoned his usual smirk for a genuine smile. An innocence that was only enhanced by his nose and cheeks tinged pink with the cold of a Connecticut winter.

"So, what do you think," she finally prompted when it became clear that no statement was forthcoming. "Of the town," she clarified.

He laughed at her nervous anticipation and wrapped his arm tightly around her waist. "It's great," he said finally, "I can't imagine you growing up to be the woman you are anyplace else."

"Well no need to give me diabetes, sweet talker," she teased, nudging his hip lightly with her own. But her beaming face belied her flippant retort, and she let out a barely audible sigh of relief.

They'd reached the door at this point and Rory broke away from Logan to open it. A few guests were exiting at the same time, and she held the door politely without noticing Logan slip away until the guests had walked away from the inn and she felt something hit her shoulder.

Her eyes widened as the snowball fell to the ground and she let the door close while turning to face Logan. She could barely contain her grin at his look of childish mischief, but she managed a fairly convincing scowl for his benefit.

"Sweet talker?" he questioned bending over to scoop another pile of snow to form into his weapon of choice.

"Oh, it's on," Rory responded, scooping up a pile of snow herself and chasing towards a now running Logan while throwing her partially formed snow ball. It broke apart in the air and its sole effect was a breeze of powdery snow blowing onto Logan's back.

"That the best you can do, Ace?" he taunted still running into the field next to the Dragonfly while Rory chased after him.

"Oh, you don't even know what you got yourself into," she cried, stopping momentarily to gather more snow. "Winter is what Gilmores do best. 'Never challenge a Gilmore at a snow ball fight' is an even more famous blunder than 'Never get involved in a land war in Asia.' So you're pretty much screwed."

She flung her second snow ball. This one was much better formed and hit her target solidly.

"Referencing and fighting," Logan said, "Quite the multi-tasker, aren't we?"

He had stopped running and turned towards Rory who had also stopped and begun creating a stockpile of snowballs.

"You know it," she replied, never looking up from the task at hand.

He wiggled his eyebrows as he began building his own pile of ammunition. "Oh, I do know it." He paired the words with a playful leer and Rory couldn't help but smile as she rolled her eyes.

"Dirty boy," she said, and she pelted him with a snowball that hit the top of his head which was bent as he packed snow together.

He shook his head. "You're so gonna get it, Gilmore," he threatened.

She grinned and threw another snowball. "You've met your match, Huntzburger," she retorted in her horrendous English accent.

"I'm having a snowball fight with Mary Poppins," he teased, finally returning her attack with a quick one-two throw, each snowball hitting its target dead on.

When they had both run out of ammo Logan glanced at the ground, contemplating making more snowballs. In that split second, Rory dove at him knocking them both two the ground. They scuffled and wrestled for a few moments before Logan came out on top and Rory stopped struggling.

Logan looked down at her, lying pinned underneath him. Her hair was full of static from the hat she had lost sometime in the fight, her whole face was flushed from cold and exertion, and her breathing was slightly belabored. The look was irresistible and he couldn't help but place a soft kiss on her lips.

The kiss merely grazed her lips. A soft brush before he pulled away. But Rory raised her hand and pulled his head to hers, kissing him more deeply. The world around her stopped mattering. She wasn't cold from lying in the snow and it didn't matter that they were outside a mere 300 yards from her mother's inn. All that existed was his lips on hers.

She let out a little gasp when she felt his cold fingers on her stomach, working their way up her many layers. He took advantage of her mouth opened in surprise to slip his tongue inside and caress her own.

His hand continued its journey up her shirt, stroking her stomach and breasts. He brushed his thumb across her nipple which was hardened from the cold of his hand and arousal.

He moved his mouth from her lips and, moving her scarf and unzipping her coat a few inches, kissed her neck, his lips and tongue leaving a hot trail that canceled out any cold she should have been feeling from the brisk breeze and the icy wetness.

Her hands grazed up and down Logan's back and through his hair and she was releasing appreciative moans and whimpers that urged him on in his efforts. She moaned louder when his knee found its way between her legs creating a friction that she'd been needing. But it also startled her enough to make her aware of her surroundings.

"Logan," she breathed, trying to gain his attention. He didn't respond. He only continued his attentions to her neck and moved his hands toward the button of her jeans.

"Whoa," she said more forcefully, "Logan." She reached down and grabbed his hands to stop his progress.

"Hmm?" he inquired as he unzipped her coat further and continued his trail to her cleavage.

"Much as you have lowered my inhibitions, Huntzburger," she began, trying to regain her faculties. "You haven't gotten me so far that I'll have sex with you outside, in the snow, next to my mother's inn. It's not gonna happen."

He finally lifted his head to look at her. She tried not to be disappointed at the loss of contact.

"You make a good point, Ace," he said solemnly, "We _are_ right next to an inn. What do you say to moving this to a bed?"

She grinned and nodded and he got up and gave her a hand in standing up and arranging her clothes so she looked slightly more put together. The minute he removed his body she began shivering with the cold and wet that was finally registering.

He put his arm around her and pulled her close. "Or maybe move it to a hot shower," he modified, rubbing his hand up and down her arm as they headed towards the inn at a brisk walk.

When they entered the inn and approached to reception desk, Michel looked them up and down skeptically, taking in Rory's look of a woman thoroughly debauched and the obvious tightening in Logan's pants that he wasn't even attempting to hide.

"Hi Michel," Rory responded sweetly, "This is my boyfriend, Logan. He was hoping to get a room for tonight. And I remembered mom saying there had been a bunch of cancellations due to the snow so I figured there's be a vacancy."

Michel ignored Logan's outstretched hand and greeting and wrinkled his nose. "Perhaps you have been watching too many Julia Roberts movies," he said, "But this establishment does not rent rooms by the hour."

Rory rolled her eyes, trying to contain her laughter. "Damn," she said, "Then I guess he'll have to get it for the whole night."

Logan handed Michel his credit card and stage-whispered in Rory's ear, "Believe me, my plans will take much longer than an hour."

Michel glared and shoved the key into Rory's hand before shooing them away.

"I wonder which one of us is the hooker?" Rory contemplated as they headed up the stairs.


End file.
